


gotta be quenched

by theonlytwin



Series: one heart between us [5]
Category: Professional Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Edging, M/M, Mild D/s, Mild Kink, also Juice Robinson is there but not in a sexual way, no actual torture, they're just dumb boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-13 23:58:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15376254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonlytwin/pseuds/theonlytwin
Summary: Instead, Ibushi is torturing him.





	gotta be quenched

It’s been hot for weeks. 

Kenny remembers the dead heat of summer, in Winnipeg, when everyone watched and waited for the storm to break - staring into the sky, scenting the air, like animals in a draught.

Tokyo doesn’t get the same dramatic thunderstorms as often as Kenny’s childhood summers, and you can’t really watch the horizon in the same way - but everyone’s waiting for one now. Waiting for the clouds to mass and release and relieve the dry world.

It almost feels like a joke, to put the G1 in summer - the hardest work in the hottest weeks. 

They have two days off. There are no press appearances, no photoshoots, no matches. They’re meant to be sleeping, eating, training, seeing physiotherapists and getting massages. Getting ready for the next set of matches.

Instead, Ibushi is torturing him.

***

They had spent the morning in the dojo. 

Kota and Juice were talking over their match in a common tongue of mime and gesture. Juice’s Japanese is as bad as Kota’s English - both with a limited vocabulary and shocking accent, though they’ve always gotten along pretty well. 

Kenny had talked to Goto the night before, will talk to him again tomorrow. He’s not worried. They’re all professionals. 

Kota laughed at some face Juice made, and Kenny rested his traps for a second to watch him laugh. 

Kota clocked him, because he almost always does.

“Kenny-tan,” he called, “what’s the word for sporting?”

Kenny told him, and Juice nodded, said, _”Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, I got you.”_

Kota had looked over at Kenny, smiled with his tongue tucked between his teeth. 

Kenny took a very deep breath, and heaved his weights again. 

***

Before that - well. 

Kenny had slept poorly - sore, thirsty and hot, body uncertain whether it wanted more or less covering, whether it wanted a pillow or not. At some point, in the dark, he had reached out to Kota, rested a hand on his ribs, couldn’t find the energy to do anything else. 

He had strange, disjointed dreams - Chase and Nack are there, and his sister is complaining about his hair, and he’s at school, but it’s also Kota’s dojo.

Some unknowable amount of time later, he felt familiar warmth and weight as Kota slid in close beside him. 

He was curled into himself, half awake, half aware of the sun rising behind the drawn blinds. His eyes were heavy, his body useless. It was good to touch Kota, even though Kenny knew they’d gather sweat.

They lay close for a while. 

Eventually, Kota stretched against him, rolled his whole body. Kenny felt him sit up, draw the sheet down, heard him murmur something - but couldn’t parse it, wasn’t up to language processing yet. 

He became suddenly very awake when Kota hauled his leg up, slipped his hot tongue into Kenny’s ass. 

“Fuck,” he gasped, and he could feel Kota smile against him. Kota was below him, had Kenny’s leg pressed to his own chest, was licking into him clumsily and fervently. “Fuck, fuck.”

Kenny feels his dick swell, rolls onto his front, pressing it between his stomach and the bed. Kota follows, still buried in him. 

Kenny moans. He rolls his hips, seeking friction, but Kota fixes his hands on Kenny’s ass, holding him in place

He tries to shove back, but he has no leverage, and Kota pulls away.

“Kenny,” Kota says, voice thick. “Don’t move. Don’t touch yourself.”

“Huh?” He struggles onto his forearms. 

“Don’t touch yourself, don’t come. I’ll tell you when you can.” 

Kenny pants into the pillow, takes a second, feeling Kota’s breath on his ass. “What if I do?” 

Kota’s thumb slides along his crack, teasing over his hole. “Then you lose. It’s just a game. No stakes.” 

Kenny drops forward, unable to hold himself up. Kota knows precisely what to say to make him do that - to fall. 

“Is that OK?” Kota asks, going still. 

He cranes his head back, catches sight of Kota, leaning to one side to check on him. They’ve done this before - Kota waking him with sex, Kota giving him instructions like this - abrupt, direct, not ungentle - but combining them is new. He’s a little off kilter, from the strange night, from the suddenness of this new game. 

He’s also hungry for Kota, for his hands and mouth and power. 

Kenny buries his face in the pillow, pushes his hips back. “Yeah. Yeah - go.”

Kota settles between his legs, licks into him again, presses his thumb in alongside, licks around and down - Kenny shivers trying to stay still. 

Kenny fists his hands in the sheets, lets Kota spread his legs a little wider, lets the waves of heat roll through his body. 

Kota is teasing, testing, lapping at him. He’s just using his thumb, which isn’t enough, his fingers are cupping his balls but he’s not touching Kenny’s dick at all.

“Kota - I need,” he starts, and tries to organise what he needs in words, and then - and then - an alarm goes off.

Kota pulls away, startled. Kenny groans. 

“Oh!” Kota rolls up the bed, grabs his phone, stops the alarm. “Oh, sorry, that’s me. I’m meant to meet Juice at the dojo.”

Kenny drags a pillow over his head, because there’s very little less sexually appealing than Juice Robinson.

“Great. Leave me here to jerk off in peace,” he says, bitterly.

Kota drops back beside Kenny, on his belly. He tucks his head under the pillow so their faces are close. “You could come. Get a work out, be our translator.”

Kenny puts a hand on Kota’s ass, nuzzles in to kiss him. “We got time to finish, first? Otherwise, I’m gonna have to watch you train and just be thinking about this,” he trails his fingers up Kota’s back, rubs a foot under one of Kota’s, feeling the soft skin of his sole. “It’ll be _so_ distracting.”

“Will it?” Kota asks, breathless. 

“Mmmhm,” Kenny nods, already tipping his hips up, rocking just a little against the sheets.

“What if,” Kota pulls the pillow off their heads, grinning, “what if we wait?”

“Until when?” Kenny asks, terrified.

“Later. When we get home.”

Kenny rolls over, covers his eyes with his hands. Getting dressed, getting breakfast, going and doing a workout, coming home - thinking about Kota telling him to stop moving. 

“Fuck,” he says, weakly.

“Is that a no?”

Kenny peers through his fingers at Kota, beautiful and awful Kota. He’s hard too, dick bobbing between his legs as he waits for Kenny’s response. 

“No.” Kota opens his mouth, ready to ask for clarification. “I mean - we can wait.”

“OK?” Kota kisses his cheek. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t want to. It’s just a game, remember?”

“It’s a game.” Kenny settles a hand on Kota’s shoulder. “And I’m going to win.”

***

Which had been a cool thing to say four and a half hours ago.

His dick had sort of gotten the message as he put pants on, and his overnight oats weren’t particularly erotic, so that had been fine. He had to feed the cat, and her food smells terrible, which was a good distraction from Kota bending over.

The two train stops to the dojo had been bad, because Kota’s leg was just there, next to Kenny’s, and they’re both wearing shorts. Kota had smiled at him. Kenny had put his bag on his lap and thought about admin and spreadsheets and emails he should be reading. 

The dojo itself was weird because they’ve fucked there before, in a few different places, over the years, but also Juice is there, and workouts themselves aren’t that sexy.

Juice is Juice - a loudmouthed, good-natured hard worker with the situational awareness of an indoor fern. Almost anyone else would have read the tension in the room - which makes Kenny wonder how much of this Kota planned, or whether this is just the improvisational inspiration that makes him a highly specific genius.

 _“You alright, man?”_ Juice asks, while Kenny stares into space.

 _“Yeah,”_ Kenny shakes himself. _“Just - tired. Hard to sleep in the heat.”_

_“I hear that. One of the only reasons staying in a hotel is good - climate control. You guys wanna grab some lunch?”_

Kenny repeats the question to Kota, who nods. “Let’s go up the road. _Noodles,_ ” Kota says, in English.

_“My dude, I love noodles! Let’s roll!”_

Juice is so excited he misses the fact that Kenny is staring at Kota like he wants to eat him.

“Lunch now?” he asks, in Japanese. “It can’t wait?”

“Nutrition is important, Kenny-tan.” He smiles, like a mascot for health.

“I hate you, Ibu-tan,” Kenny tells him. 

Juice grins. _”Y’all are real cute, you know that?”_

 _”Cuuuute,”_ Kota echoes, because his English extends to only to food and terms of endearment.

Kenny shakes his head. 

***

During lunch, Kota keeps bumping their knees under the table, and Kenny is trying to translate back and forth, and not spill his drink, so he comes across as pretty spacey.

 _”You oughta take a nap, dude,”_ Juice tells him. _”You’re looking kind of rough.”_

_“Yeah, I’m just - waiting for it to rain. You know when you were a kid, and it got real hot for a while, and everyone would be waiting for the storm to break?”_

_“Didn’t really happen in Illinois. Sure did in Florida though. You reckon it’ll rain?”_

Kenny looks out the window, past Kota, who still has a straight face, even though their ankles are overlapping. _“Hope so.”_

Kota tips his head, waiting for Kenny’s summary. 

“He says I look bad, and I should get some rest. And what a relief it will be when it rains.”

“You look very handsome today,” Kota says. “We’ll go home after this.”

***

The two train stops home are also bad. It’s hot, and they’re both sweating a little, and Kota folds his hands neatly together like he wasn’t fucking Kenny with them this morning.

Kenny pulls his hat over his eyes and thinks about multiplication tables. 

***

They walk home from the station and don’t touch at all. 

Kenny feels, in the blazing summer heat, like he’s dreaming again. Kota’s hair catches the sun, his arms swing a little. He’s very lovely and possibly Kenny imagined him.

When they get into the house, it’s cool and dim by comparison. 

While they’re taking off their shoes, Morgana appears in the hall, mews at them. 

“I’m going to put some ice cubes in her water bowl,” Kota says. He turns, looks at Kenny. “Later, though.”

“Oh, no, Ibu-tan, the cat’s comfort is very important. I don’t think it can wait.”

“She’s fine, she’s just being dramatic,” Kota says, inching forward like he’s uncertain of his reception. 

Kenny looks straight at him. “You never told me what I’d win.”

Kota tips his head, very close now. “No. Well, is there something you’d like? As a prize?”

He steps up to Kota, brushes his fingers through his fringe, puts a hand on his ribs again, like he did in the night. “Nothing I don’t already have.”

“Sweet talker,” Kota says, laughing, closing the space between them, rubbing his cheek against Kenny’s. “Would you like to finish the game?”

Kenny nods, gathering his arms around Kota, pressing them together. 

“I thought,” Kota steps forward, driving Kenny back, “you could open me up, and fuck me. Still within the rules - you can’t touch yourself.”

His heart flutters as Kota gently pushes Kenny against the wall. 

“I want to see your face. You should ride me.” 

Kota squeezes him, makes a noise of delight. “Yes. Please, yes.”

He pulls away, tugging Kenny by the shirt to the bedroom. He pulls off his own shirt, starts untying his drawstring as he goes, and Kenny laughs. As eager and frustrated as he had felt, Kota clearly been going as mad - he was just crazy enough to begin with to mask it well.

“Stop laughing,” Kota giggles. “It’s not funny.”

“This was your idea,” Kenny says, colliding with Kota in the doorway, biting him on the neck. “That we should wait. But now,” Kota yanks Kenny’s shirt over his head, “look at you.”

“The train ride home was hard,” Kota tells him, very seriously, and they both laugh as Kenny topples them onto the bed.

Kota shimmies his shorts off as Kenny fetches the lube. He lays back with his arms outstretched, his knees bent, his dick hard. 

Kenny surveys him as he peels off his underwear, feels his pulse surge as Kota spreads his legs. He crooks two fingers, covers them in lube, and slides into the space Kota has made for him. He runs his wet fingers down and up over Kota’s hole, and he gasps, lifts his hips, gives Kenny even better access. 

“You’re incredible,” Kenny tells him as he presses the first finger in. Kota keens, Kenny pours more lube over his hand, rocks in and out carefully, watching his responses.

Kota knows that Kenny likes to take his time when he opens Kota up, so maybe this was part of the plan too - drawing it out even further. 

Kenny kisses the base of his dick, slips another finger in, turning his wrist a little - Kota grabs his hair, doesn’t pull away or push down, just holds him.

“OK?” Kenny asks.

“More,” Kota says.

It’s almost enough to make him come untouched. Kenny shuffles up, still with two fingers in him, and puts his mouth on Kota’s dick. He tastes of sweat and sex.

“Deeper,” Kota says, and Kenny goes deeper - fingers further in, head further down. His voice is going to be wrecked, but he has days to recover.

Kota’s grabbing at his own thighs, pulling them up. Kenny’s lost track of the lube, but his whole hand is pretty wet, so he folds three fingers together and presses in.

Kota writhes, and Kenny lets his dick slip out of his mouth so he can watch. 

“Now, now, fuck me now,” Kota says, and Kenny rocks his hand in a few more times, just in case, feels Kota tight and hot around him before pulling out.

He rolls onto his back, finds the lube under his leg, fills his hand again, and stops, because he can’t touch himself. 

Kota, not smiling anymore but looking desperate, slides their hands together, slicks up Kenny’s dick, climbs over him.

“Condom?”

“I don’t care,” Kota says, reaching underneath him.

“Worth the wait?” Kenny asks, because he’s a brat.

Kota lines them up, slides down. He takes Kenny all the way to the root in one motion, clenches and sighs. Kenny can feel everything - the heat and skin and muscle of Kota. He blinks down at Kenny, looking wondering, beatific. 

“Yes,” he says, calmly. 

He starts rolling his hips, hands behind him, resting on Kenny’s thighs. Kenny reaches up with his still lube wet hand and brushes a thumb over the head of Kota’s dick. Kota swears, starts moving faster.

Kenny lets Kota set the pace, makes a fist for Kota to fuck, watches his face as he gets closer - he almost needs to close his eyes because of how beautiful he is.

Instead, he sees the moment when Kota comes very precisely - his eyes rolling back, his mouth open, his body holding Kenny tight, tighter, bucking as he covers Kenny’s chest - this sets Kenny off, and he starts fucking up into Kota, holding his hips down.

“Can I? Can I?” He curves his head towards Kota, trying to catch his eye, feeling the come sliding down his sides.

“Yes. Now.” Kota twists his hips, clenches his hands, and Kenny comes.

It makes him white out. 

After a moment, he’s aware that Kota has lain down beside him, so that only their hands touch. It’s still very hot, and they’re dripping come and sweat. 

“You win,” Kota says, quietly. 

“Thought we both did,” Kenny suggests. 

“We both tried our hardest.” Kota threads their fingers together, and holds Kenny’s hand to his mouth before raising them both above the bed. “We are the champions.”

Kenny tugs his hand down, rolls towards him. “I love you. More than anything.” He presses a kiss to Kota’s shoulder. “Also I need a shower.”

“Sure,” Kota says, non-committal.

“We’re going to have to change the sheets,” Kenny says, looking around at the mess.

“Later,” Kota says, pulling Kenny close, kissing him on the forehead. "I love you."

***

It doesn’t rain. It stays hot. Despite this, Kenny sleeps well, that night.


End file.
